Caslock
by theconsultingpenguin
Summary: This is my first fanfiction crossover. It is NOT canon by any means. Its just me derping around with two of my favorite characters. Okay? Okay:3


((This is my first fanfiction crossover. It is NOT canon by any means. Its just me derping around with two of my favorite characters. Okay? Okay))

A flutter of wings. Sherlock turned around to see a slender figure dressed in white. She'd be the picture of perfection if it weren't for the growing red stain in the middle of her snow-colored bodice. Without a word, the female with striking blue eyes-something that would surprise even the world's only consulting detective in that he'd notice her eyes in the first place-limped towards the windows and smeared bloody sygils-of enochian origin- over the walls. Too stunned-and admittedly fascinated as to why she'd do such a thing- Sherlock stood there with his hands in his pockets and waited for the female to stop drawing what looked like graffiti on the walls. "Are you done defacing my walls?" he'll ask, raising a brow. The female, having lost quite a bit of blood, shot the male a pained look of exasperation and nodded. "Yes… But it won't last forever… They'll come for me." she huffed, crawling into a corner. Not even Sherlock could lie. The mere fact that a girl appeared before his eyes in the middle of his flat covered in blood was enough to grab his interest, even for a little bit. Then again, he did recall the events of the Baskerville Hound. That, of course, turned out to be fake. But this? This was different. This was real. There was no way a girl could enter a locked flat, not when the windows were locked(Sherlock had taken up locking his windows ever since the incident with the stolen hair pin…) What else could the world's only consulting detective do? Investigate.

Sherlock approached the crouching figure. Staring into the young girl's face, Sherlock could tell she'd been through a lot. At the moment, the girl seemed to be too busy clutching the bleeding wound in her stomach to notice him staring at her, his face less than six inches away from hers. "A towel would be greatly appreciated." said the girl. Sherlock didn't budge. "What's your name?" he asked, his own light blue eyes unblinking as he stared her down. Castiel opened her eyes and spoke. "C-Castiel… I-I'm an Angel of the lord." she said. "Would you please fetch me a towel?" she asked as a wave of blood seeped through her stained fingers. A slight twitch in his left brow, Sherlock stood up without a word and fetched the girl, or rather, Castiel a clean towel. The seraph gave a pained smile as she weakly reached out to take it. Unfortunately for her, the blood loss was now beginning to affect her motor skills. Without thinking, Sherlock gently pressed the towel gently against Castiel's abdomen in attempt to slow down the bleeding. A glimmer of concern-it was mostly about her staining the carpet in his flat, and him not wanting Mrs Hudson to tack on any more expenses or having to deal with Lestrade- but concern nonetheless, flashed across his eyes. "Is there anything I can do to help? I'd rather you not bleed out and die in my flat. I don't need the publicity nor the hassle from Lestrade." he said in his usual manner. Castiel nodded hesitantly. She was desperate, that much was true. But how/desperate/was/she? Sherlock could practically see the cogs turning in the female's skull. Castiel was about to answer when the door opened. "Sherlo-… Dear god… Is… Is she a client?" John would ask, dropping the groceries as he grabbed an extra towel. Handing it to Sherlock, John took one look at the girl and then back to Sherlock. "We've got to get her to the hospi-" Before John could even finish his sentence, Castiel's gray blue eyes opened wide in fear. "No… I-.. I cannot leave… The windows…" she said, slurring slightly. John shot his flatmate a concerned glance. Sherlock would return the silent message with a nod. "John, help me get her towards the bed." he said, gently lifting her thin arm around his neck. John nodded an lifted her other arm around his own neck. Between the two men, Castiel was laid gently on top of Sherlock's bed. "I'll go fetch the medical kit." John said as he hurried out of the room. Sherlock might even adjust the pillows behind the seraph's head. He wasn't completely ignorant of the meaning of being gentle. Even Sherlock was capable of feeling. How? Just ask Molly Hooper about the Christmas party. Most of the time he chose not to waste his time on kindness. While John was out of the room, Sherlock sat beside the girl. "What happened, Castiel?" he asked, brushing a sweat drenched lock of brown hair from her unusually pale face. Castiel looked up at Sherlock, then at the sun setting through the window. "My brothers… Many do not agree with the path I've chosen to take. They see me as a traitor" she said, wincing a bit from the pain, and sadness. Sherlock's expression softened as he listened to the girl's story. A moment of silence passed. A hand was soon placed upon her own. "I'm sorry." murmured Sherlock from the bottom of his heart. Soon enough, John returned with the medical supplies. "I'll take care of her… And John? Don't touch the windows." Sherlock stated as he began to pull up her dress. John left the room in a hurry despite knowing that he had far more medical knowledge than Sherlock. But John would trust Sherlock to have enough common sense to take her to Bart's, and soon.

Sherlock gently dabbed at the bloody gash. To his surprise-and relief- the bleeding had all but stopped. Perhaps there was some truth about her story. No human could survive this much blood loss, or begin to heal this quickly. "Can you sit up, Castiel?" he'll ask softly, Castiel nodded, tried, and failed. Sherlock leaned down. "Wrap your arms around my neck if you can, Castiel." he murmured. Castiel did so, but not without a whimper. Sherlock moved quickly and gently as he wrapped her torso in sterile gauze. Castiel bit her lip as the gauze was applied. Soon enough, Sherlock finished bandaging her up. "I'm going to lay you back down, now, Castiel." he said softly, placing a bloodied hand behind her head as he helped her lay back on the soft pillows. Castiel nodded with a smile, though her expression was fraught with pain. "John, I need you to go and borrow an old dress from Mrs Hudson. Castiel's clothes are much too damaged." John poked his head in as if to protest. Seeing the look of concern on Sherlock's face, John left without a word. Turning his attention back to the seraph, Sherlock couldn't help but look upon the now sleeping angel laying upon his bed. 'Who… What is this girl? Is it truly possible that she isn't human?' he wondered as he continued to watch over her while she slept. John returned moments later with a few different dresses borrowed from his landlady-who could be heard in the background fretting about the bloodied windows. "John, sit with her while I deal with Mrs Hudson…" Sherlock said as he took the dresses from John and placed them on a chair. John stood there in silence, feeling a bit awkward standing guard over an injured and half naked girl in his flatmate's bed. John picked up the sheet and covered her up. Sherlock soon returned with a bowl of water and a towel. "John, you can stop staring at the poor girl." he said as he sat down with the bowl in his lap. John muttered his apologies and quickly exited the room.

Sherlock dabbed the edge of the towel in the water and began to wipe away at the dried blood. Castiel stirred slightly-much to Sherlock's relief- and opened her eyes. "Aside from fixing your wounds, is there anything else I can do for you?" he asked, rinsing the rag in the bowl. Castiel looked away. Oh yes, she knew the answer to his question. But would she ask that of him? Would she ask something so dangerous of her rescuer? Before she could answer, Sherlock began to wipe the blood from her face in an almost tender fashion. "The name's Sherlock Holmes. The world's one and only consulting detective." he said, offering the faintest of smiles. Castiel nodded. "I know. I am a celestial being… You'll be wanting some proof?" she asked, looking up at him with an unblinking gaze. Sherlock said nothing as he finished wiping her face clean of blood. "No. I'll take your word for it… But John, the fellow that brought you your clothes and Mrs Hudson might." he said, wringing the bloody water from the towel. "A human would have died by now. And while I removed your clothes to apply the bandages I could see your wounds already beginning to heal…. That and the fact that you smeared ancient enochian sygils all over my walls." he added, perhaps trying to lighten the mood in his own way. Castiel smiled weakly. "You are… Very observant." she said, slightly short of breath. Sherlock looked back at Castiel and nodded. "Yes. Moreso than the average human being." he added. Castiel smiled and closed her eyes for a moment. Sherlock brushed a lock of hair from her face once more. "You should get some rest…" he said after a moment of silence. Castiel nodded weakly. "Yes. You would be correct. Even an angel needs to rest after being severely injured" she said. Sherlock nodded and put the faded bloody towel into the bowl. "Sleep. I'll be just be outside the door." he said, standing up to leave. Castiel's hand gripped his bloodstained sleeve. "Thank you… I am forever in your debt." Sherlock smiled gently and shook his head. "Don't worry about. Get some sleep, Castiel" he murmured. And with that, Sherlock turned off the light and left the room. Castiel turned toward the ceiling, closed her eyes and fell asleep~


End file.
